Unlike yesterday’s 4 am start, I’ve overslept and wake with
a fright at 7.40 remembering I’m meeting cabbie Abraham at 9 am.
I could take a cheap tro tro to the rainforest but I struck
a deal with Abraham to drive me the one-hour, 33 km rough road trip, wait
around, and then return me to the Oasis for the grand sum of 40 cedis (£13).
The door-to-door, personalised service is convenient and comfortable and I’m
happy to give this devoted family man a jackpot fare.
The cabbies in these poor coastal towns rely on the
occasional tourist with deep pockets to compensate for endless standing around
and squabbling with hoards of cabbies who compete for passengers in their
customised yellow-cornered mean machines.
I strap on my heavy hiking boots hauled all the way from
home for this starring moment. But first breakfast!
Suddenly dozens of fishermen are swarming the beach, hauling
on ropes attached to a net, prancing and chanting, their melodious deep voices
filling the air. The German couple and I rush with cameras swinging on our
wrists, lured by their siren song, captivated by the spectacle of beautiful men
at work.
The camaraderie of the beach fishermen is delightful and
they appear to be elated as they harmonise and haul ashore their catch of small
silver fish, flapping and flashing in the morning sun.
Later Abraham tells me boat fishermen chug further out to
sea in motorised canoes chasing bigger fish. My late father, a fearless deep
ocean game fisherman would be impressed!
Kakum National Park, sporting a sensational canopy walk, is
a major international tourist attraction. The esteemed Bradt travel guide on
Ghana devotes two enthusiastic pages of evocative description to the canopy
walk, unique across the whole of Africa.
Built to protect and promote the rainforest in 1995 with US
aid dollars, the series of seven wood and rope bridges extend 350 metres
through the dense forest, towering up to 40 metres above the lush treetops.
Tackling the daring walk is not for the faint-hearted or height phobic.
There’s no turning back if you lose your nerve and if you
happen to drop your sunnies or camera, well you can say goodbye to them and
expect some lucky monkey will be wearing your shades and snapping pictures, the
envy of all the forest inhabitants.
Well I’m up for it! This is my very own extreme sports
challenge, as adventurous as I get, as bungee jumping, climbing Kilimanjaro and
running marathons are out of the question! I am pouring buckets of sweat in the
close to 100 per cent humidity when I join a group of garrulous American
tourists from Colorado and college students from Virginia.
Our conscientious guide extols the therapeutic virtues of
special trees before we climb the steep steps to the viewing platform at the
start of first bridge. I follow the others in single file as we wobble and sway
with each step on the narrow plank, white-knuckled hands gripping the ropes on
each side. Feeling like a baby elephant on a tight rope, I am slightly scared,
imagining losing my foothold and slipping off the plank or somehow plummeting
headfirst over the ropes.
By the fourth bridge I’m telling myself to trust my feet and
look up. The tranquil, vivid greenery is soothing and I stride along, chatting
casually, high above the leafy canopy, with the friendly college students who
are curious about my career in journalism and why I’m travelling alone at my
mature age!
By the time we return to the park entrance, the leaden sky
is teeming with rain and we are all saturated like half-drowned furry mammals,
having an authentic rainforest experience!
The canopy walk costs an exorbitant 30 cedis for
non-Ghanaians. With the promised cash for Abraham folded neatly in my purse,
I’m skint and forced to pass on visiting the nearby Monkey Forest Resort, a
sanctuary for orphaned and injured animals. I’m disappointed but commit to
seeing the wildlife when I travel in Kenya and Uganda, hopefully with Andrew.
We hit the road, cruising past poor villages of broken down
huts and bustling markets, which by now are familiar sights. I’m no longer
shocked by the ever-present poverty and no longer reaching for my camera.
However I am shocked by an impressive mansion, perched brazenly on a hill,
emerging from the surrounding slums like a mirage.
Abraham, himself a devout Christian, explains the gleaming
new million dollar mansion is a Born-Again church! I can’t help feeling annoyed
at such distorted priorities when villagers, who can barely buy food, donate
their meagre finances to such an elaborate building. But Abraham accepts the
paradox in this fervently religious country.
Nervous to go anywhere near the corner where the hustling
lads are lurking, I steel myself to be strong and say NO to their irresistible
offers, especially since I don’t possess two coins to rub together! But I will
have to return, cashed-up after an emergency withdrawal at the ATM, and I’m
sure the razor sharp lads can sniff the fresh supply of money.
With royal waves and cheery ‘Helloooo’s’ to my endless young
male ‘admirers’ (please indulge my delusions, I realise they are only
interested in the contents of my purse!) who appear our of nowhere, I have
survived the risky stroll to the cash machine and flopped, hungry and thirsty
at the Moringa vegetarian café.
I order an exotic selection of yam balls, tofu kebab and
‘Black Beauty’ (battered aubergine) with spicy sauce and coconut-mango-lime
juice. A group of Irish girls are venting about their travel hardships and when
we start talking I discover they have been volunteering as teachers in Ghana
for six months. Jaded and homesick, they are ready to jump on a plane back to
Ireland.
Three sweet, innocent little kids approach me asking for
donations for they Christian Union Youth Camp. I am now highly suspicious of
these donation forms. I have a hunch the ‘official’ forms are printed by a
racketeer paying the kids a small percentage of takings from gullible tourists.
That’s my theory having been conned several times now. I give the big-eyed kids
a cedi each anyway!
Confession! Rounding the corner, almost back safely in my
hut, I have succumbed to Koby’s relentless charm and ordered seven more name
bracelets from his clever friend and one ‘gold’ bracelet engraved by Koby
himself with the symbol for ‘hope’. Is there any hope for me? Probably not,
when it comes to sweet-talking, handsome boys. But with such talented
entrepreneurs there is indeed hope for Ghana.
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